


Golden repair II

by DarkShadeless



Series: Overseer Sar [37]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Bickering, Friendship, Sar dealing with emotions, as a preferred form of communication, he might never recover, mention of Dark Side rituals and all that entails, the horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 14:47:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Sometimes Sar asks himself why he is friends with this bastard.Or: In which Sar and Timmns have a fraction of a grown-up conversation.





	Golden repair II

 

 

Drellik weasels himself into Sar’s ritual before he can say ‘kriff no’. That’s the beginning of the end.

Maybe he’s being a bit melodramatic but… but… Timmns catches one wiff of ‘sacrifice’ and is right there with him, elbows and all. Like a damned battering ram. There’s no stopping him. Sar has tried. His protests have gone summarily ignored.

If Timmns and his _Jedi sensitivities_ ruin the ceremony, Sar will use him for an oblation. He’s not even kidding.

But his second uninvited guest is only the start of his problems. Somehow his quiet, private rite has become a _demonstration_ for any students his fellow instructor can wheedle into attending, as if their presence will keep the proceedings above board. Whatever the board is supposed to be here.

Sar hopes they know what they got into. As far as offerings go the uti dorizi wa is rather harmless but it still requires a _blood sacrifice_. The Dark Side deals in pints not teaspoons. If anyone keels over because they expect him to prick his finger, he’s not picking them up until he’s done.

… he might be a little out of sorts about all the fuss. His Jedi’s agitation is entirely out of proportion and aggravating to boot. Sar was looking forward to this and now the whole thing is mired in peer pressure.

There’s a reason Drellik asked to observe and the Sith didn’t deny him his professional curiosity.

The golden repair is as tricky as it is infrequently practiced. Sar’s a fully trained artificer, he can manage, but it has been years since he last tried his hand at this particular craft. That the opportunity is so rare would be a tragedy, if it wasn’t for the destruction necessary to make it equally so.

To have this chance, even if he must also make up for his mistake… Duty doesn’t have to be a burden.

Unless _overprotective frog-dogs_ suck all the fun out of it, Force help him. You’d think Timmns had never aspired to killing Sith by the score. Sar ~~~~can’t dare sneeze in his hearing range these days or he will be _assaulted_ with _concern_. He has survived almost four decades in this galaxy before they ever met! He’s not going to wither away over a little blood loss, he’s made of sterner stuff.

Only not stern enough to deter the green annoyance when he decides to put all of his bantha-headedness to being a bother, apparently.

Sar’s losing his touch. He needs a vacation. Somewhere nice and deadly, so he can hone his instincts back to merciless perfection. This breach in his defences is a detriment. He’s just too busy, or he would have already taken care of it.

 

Now if only Timmns would stop poking holes in his perfectly fine excuses.

 

“It’s understandable if you need some time, that’s all I’m saying. I could take the class, they won’t eat me in a week or two.”

The Mirialan has been riding this topic since- since Theron. There’s been a sighting recently, on some backwater dustball with too many syllables. Caipirinha or something. Commander Raan himself went to try and get his paws on their renegade, but Theron gave him the slip.

Ever since, it’s been ‘you’re working too hard’ and ‘everyone needs a break sometime’. He fell asleep on their office/table for five minutes! Sar kind of wishes Somminick would shut up about it already.

“Really. No one will fault you for-“

That’s about as much of this schlubba as a Sith can be expected to take. “I don’t _want_ to take time off, for fuck’s sake! For once in your friping life, listen to me will you!”

Instead of sniping right back his co-instructor retreats a step in visible hesitation. It’s _maddening_. There isn’t even protest, just some wimpy sort of chagrin and what have they come to? Desperate measures are called for, much as Sar loathes to admit it.

“I’m going to say this _one time_.” A deep breath isn’t nearly enough to steel him but what could be? “One of my best friends is holding this class with me and when I’m not at work I’m kriffing alone with my thoughts and I _hate_ it. Are you happy now?”

Surprise splashes over his fool Jedi’s face. Like whatever he expected, this wouldn’t feature in a hundred years. Sar’s skin _crawls_ with how vulnerable he has made himself. ~~~~

“Just, just stop, would you? I want to be a hronking workaholic. It helps." The Sith can’t bring himself to say more. That’s damning enough already and the rest of it swings under every word. _You help, when you're not driving me insane because you're pussyfooting around me as if I'm going to go to pieces on you._

By all the Corellian hells, he’s bleeding leverage, isn’t he?

Instead of going for his throat, like any self-respecting person should, or having some mercy and waving his moment of weakness off to give Yon much needed time to compose himself, Somminick says gently, “Oh… of course, I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”

There’s something so achingly soft in his tone, so many _feelings_ , and Sar is done. There’s a time for tactical retreat and this is it.

With a touch more desperation than he cares for he backpedals to avoid the looming heart-to-heart for all he's worth, “It’s fine. Can we stop talking now?” Preferably before he gets hives or a frelling _rash_ from this overexposure to touchy-feely bantha shit. Oh _Force_. “Please don’t hug me.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good because I will gut you. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Sure you would.”

“… shut it.”

 

 


End file.
